The Faerion (26 page)

"Perhaps. What else did you talk to this Mortic about?"

"This and that. We talk frequently. I've learned quite a bit about magic."

"Ah, I thought as much. This Mortic dangles Berimar's secrets in your eyes and you become his servant. You crave much yet are still a babe in the woods. You presume to learn the art of a thirteen hundred year old sorcerer?"

"That old? You look so well preserved. You do not deny that you are who Mortic searches for?"

"I will say nothing on that matter. However, if I were that person, then you would be in grave danger for telling me these things. One might guess that I had strong magic."

"I considered that. I made preparations for this meeting."

"Berimar's secrets?"

Garlac bowed. "I do what I deem necessary."

"Does Lord Daass know your activities?" She dropped her towel, and pulled a dress over her head. She noticed the hesitation in Garlac's reply and glanced at him. She caught him before he could tear his eyes away.

"A gentleman wouldn't watch a lady dress."

"A lady wouldn't allow a gentleman in the same room when she dresses. You chose to dress in front of me. Do not blame me for watching you. And to answer your question, no, Daass knows very little of what I do, but he has suspicions. As long as I execute my duties he refrains from digging too deep."

"And what is your goal? To unseat Daass?"

"Trivial."

"The throne?"

"Potential, but too little."

"Too little? Your ambition is staggering. There are many powers in the world that will be at odds with you. You realize that even with all of Berimar's sorcery you would still be a servant of Galamog."

"I know a way around that. The Faerion."

She smiled at him like an indulgent parent patiently waiting for the child to find the answer.

"Perhaps, you do," said Dellana. "But you do not have the Faerion and you do not know its secrets. Berimar, Blackthorne, even Galamog do not possess the knowledge to unlock the book."

"So you are the sorceress after all. What about Wynne, or the Daerlan? Do they have the skill for the Faerion?"

"Wynne would not know her potential with the Faerion. I can't speak for the Daerlan although they possessed it for many years. Navir might know. He holds many secrets in that head of his, but getting that knowledge out will be a challenge."

"I am prepared for that."

"Do not underestimate Navir. Never underestimate Navir. His father did and still does and it will cost him dearly ere the end. There are many bones in the earth of those who underestimated the solitary Navir. Berimar tried for years to kill that Daerlan. Navir survived everything. All of Berimar's power. What can you do different? Will you tell me what you paid for Berimar's magic?"

"Just information. Just information. Mortic is interested in politics. Apparently, Mordyn will be invading Wierland and Calendia in the near future, depending upon the outcome of the Wierland invasion. Mordyn does not wish Calendia and Wierland united against Mordyn."

"I see. You believed that Berimar's spells are worth mere information. Mortic could find out what he needed almost anywhere. Certainly not for the price he paid you. I should be wary, Garlac." She began to brush out her hair very slowly. She looked at him directly.

"And you care nothing for the people here? Aren't you the Vizier of the Brotherhood? How can you have such little concern for your fellow man?"

"Spare me the lecture. How about you? A sorceress acting the part of a follower. Who is the bigger hypocrite?"

She sat on the bed. Garlac resisted the temptation. They sat in silence watching each other. Garlac began to fidget. He did not know what Dellana would do. He was not adept enough to sense the buildup of sorcery. She could be working a spell and he would be unaware. He began his own preparations, slowly recalling the proper phrases, remembering, too, Mortic's warnings about accuracy in a spell. The wrong words would damn his soul to the demons for eternity.

Garlac's spell rose up in a violet light. It hummed and began to seal the room. It was designed to such the air out of the room, rendering Dellana unconscious. Too late, Garlac remembered Mortic's warning about Dellana's daggers. A sharp pain tore through his shoulder and his spell faltered. He caught a glimpse of Dellana opening the door and slipping out. He pressed his hand against his wound and started after her. However, he had forgotten about the spell. It hung in the air, unfinished. Garlac forgot where he was in the sequence. He tried to close the loop but the spell wavered and pulled itself inward and flashed and crackled, searing Garlac and he collapsed. He heard footsteps running down the hall, and then he blacked out.

"Lord Garlac?" A hand reached out and gently shook Garlac. His eyes flickered, and then opened, slowly focusing.

"Carle?" He glanced around. Dellana was gone. Apparently some time had passed as the light entered the window from a different direction than he remembered.

"What happened? You are badly burned. I bandaged your cut shoulder and put some salve on your burns. You lost a bit of blood. Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure. I'm too groggy." He moved gently, feeling the painful cracking of his burned skin. He winced as he sat up.

"Who did this?" asked Carle.

His mind cleared quickly and he needed to divide Dellana from her only ally.

"Dellana."

"Dellana?"

"She is a sorceress."

"I don't believe you. She is a member of the Brotherhood. A Sister!"

"Take a look around, boy. The signs of sorcery are evident. I stupidly confronted her about her past and she grew angry. I am lucky to be alive."

Carle helped Garlac to a chair. He brought him a cup of water. He looked around the room, searching Dellana's belongings, but could find nothing out of the ordinary. He sighed.

"What can I do for you?" asked Carle absently.

"Let me rest here. I shall be all right."

"But your burns need treatment. Let me find a physician for you. There may still be time to prevent much scarring."

"Scarring?" The thought hadn't occurred to Garlac. His fingers touched the side of his face, feeling the deformed skin, brittle under his touch.

"Yes, yes, find a physician."

Carle left quickly and Garlac sat, gathering his thoughts. What would he do? Should he seek Dellana out and kill her? Expose her to Lord Daass? The better course would be to betray her to King Treteste or perhaps Daass could do that. It might gain them an advantage later.

Carle found a physician and gave him directions to Dellana's quarters. Carle needed to find Dellana. Garlac's story rang false, but Carle needed to be sure she was all right. He checked the Chapterhouse and several taverns that he knew she liked but found no trace. No one had seen her for days.

He searched the castle. He peeked into the dungeon but there was too much confusion and the guards were suspicious of anyone. He asked the guards at the gates but no one remembered anybody of Dellana's description leaving the city. It would be impossible to leave in any case; the Wierland army still surrounded the city.

He bought a small loaf of bread and returned to his quarters. He had a bottle of wine hidden under his bed and believed the bread and wine would taste wonderful at the moment. He opened his door and shut it, locking it securely. He went directly to the bed and pulled the bottle out. He set the bread on the table with the wine. He opened the wine and poured some into a cup. He sipped it while eating the bread.

"Do you have another cup?"

He nearly fell out of his chair as Dellana moved out from the curtains.

"I waited for you for a long while. I was nearly asleep when you returned. Have you a second cup?"

"No, I don't."

"No matter. I will share yours." She took the cup from his hand and drank deeply. Her eyes locked on his. Carle felt himself slipping away.

"Are you a sorceress?" he blurted out, breaking the mood.

"Do you think I was bewitching you?"

"No. I found Garlac in your room, burned."

"Ha! The fool. It was his own spell. When I escaped he must have lost his place and the spell collapsed on him."

"You didn't do that to him?"

"No, of course not. Do you believe that I am capable of such a thing?"

"No, Dellana. I don't. But I don't know what is going on anymore. I am over my head. I only wanted to be a Brother and serve the people of Calendia. What have I become?"

"I told you before that you are too hard on yourself. You cannot do more than you are able. Why do you deride yourself so mercilessly?"

Carle sat nothing. He thoughtfully chewed his bread.

"Garlac will be hunting us," said Carle. "He told me to fetch a physician but I did not return with him. Garlac will want to know why. We cannot be found together."

"Let us leave Nantitet."

"How? The siege."

"Ah, I had forgotten." Her expression was strange. Carle noticed it, curious to know her thoughts. He did not totally believe Garlac, yet neither could he give Dellana all his trust. He had spent enough time with Apal to know that looks can be deceiving and that all manner of people may be involved in intrigue.

"Perhaps there might be another way. We must talk to a man I know. Come with me- we must hurry."

They moved quickly through the commotion in the streets as the people of Nantitet prepared for the siege. They stored the food in a large storeroom near the castle and guards watched the wells day and night. King Treteste would not let the city be defeated from within. Everyone outside moved with purpose and Carle and Dellana did not stand out.

She led him toward the inns nearest the castle.

"Why here? Most who live here are foreigners."

"True. There is a man from Mordyn who may be able to help us."

"Why would he?" Carle watched her face but there was no reaction.

"He owes me a favor. I obtained an audience with Lord Daass for him once. I hope he remembers his obligation; otherwise we cannot get out of Nantitet. Once we are admitted to his presence let me speak. Do not offer any speech. He may be a spy."

"You helped a spy?"

"I was instructed to. I cannot discuss it further."

The inn was dark. Dellana entered it with the ease of familiarity. Carle kept close behind, his eyes taking in the hostile glances around them. Dellana walked up the stairs to the first landing then knocked on the nearest door. They waited several moments, and then the door opened. A thin man stood there.

"Well?"

"I want to see Mortic."

"Who are you?"

Dellana gestured with her hand. The man clutched at his throat. Dellana pushed him aside and Carle closed the door behind them.

"Poor manners. What do I owe this visit?" Mortic sat on a sofa, a glass of wine in his hand. "The Brotherhood of the Rose does not frequent this inn. Nor do they use sorcery."

"I heard you were seeking me," said Dellana.

"Ah. I might have guessed. You call yourself Dellana?"

"I do. Why do you seek me? I have no desire to return to Mordyn."

Carle's heart thumped. Garlac spoke the truth. Dellana was a sorceress. He started to move away but Dellana grabbed his hand tightly.

"We are not through yet, you and I. Mortic, speak plainly. I have little patience with Berimar's underlings."

"I understand. But I am not an underling of Berimar. Lady Galamog herself requires your presence."

"To tighten her grip on Berimar."

"If you say so. I am but a servant." He had not moved, but Carle felt the air moving and warming.

"We should not be here," whispered Carle.

"Do not worry. Mortic does not have the skill to harm us." She looked pointedly in his eyes and Mortic's expression relaxed.

"I see. You are quite powerful, Dellana. Why did I not know this fact?"

"Galamog does not know. We kept it secret from her. Berimar did not want her to become too greedy. And he thought it safer for me if Galamog felt no threat from Berimar. My power is far greater than it was. I have read much of the Faerion. You best beware my power."

Mortic watched her for a moment, then Carle. "Point taken. I see this surprises your companion. What is your intention with him? I can't see any hostage value or perhaps a spell that requires his blood?"

Carle struggled to pull free of Dellana's grasp.

"Calm down! Don't you see you are reacting the way he wants? He wants to separate us and use your fear to trap us both."

"I don't know what you are. I thought I did, but now.."

"Later. Right now we must deal with Mortic." She turned to the orange man. "I want passage out of Nantitet. I know you have a way out. We must use it tonight."

"Leave Nantitet? There's a siege."

"No playing now, Mortic. Out tonight."

"And what do I get for my trouble."

"Your life."

Mortic appeared to think it over. "Perhaps I have been hasty. Meet here at dark and we shall depart."

"As easy as that?"

"Well, perhaps not. But we shall leave."

"I will know if there's a trap."

"I am aware of what you will know, Dellana. I have preparations to make. I will await you."

Dellana led Carle out of the room and back into the main room of the inn. They left without pausing, walking to the south wall area of the city.

"Do you trust him?" asked Carle, who was still looking for a place to run. He felt terrified. He wiped his forehead several times. He began to mutter softly to himself, watching the ground where he placed his feet. Dellana led him by the arm to a house on a narrow street. Finally, he looked up.

"Where are we?"

"A safe place. No one will find us here." She opened the door and locked it behind them.

"What will you do to me?"

"Dear one, fear not. I do not use blood magic and I will not harm you."

"You were to marry Berimar."

"No. That is a tale told by Mortic based on an older tale by Berimar. I am Berimar's sister. He wanted to be sure Galamog would never connect me to sorcery and consider me only a plaything for Berimar."

"You are a thousand years old." His voice was without inflection. His eyes bore into the wall.